


Tracer's Birthday Surprise

by MarquisDeGlad



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Consensual Kink, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Human Pet, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Master/Pet, Non-Consensual Bondage, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Slave Trade, Smut, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21560248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarquisDeGlad/pseuds/MarquisDeGlad
Summary: Emily promised Tracer a kinky surprise for her birthday. But what Tracer gets might surprise both of them...
Relationships: Emily/Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	Tracer's Birthday Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, degenerates! This was a birthday present for a darling friend of mine, and she generously gave me permission to post it. Enjoy!

Tracer moaned into in ecstasy as she was pushed past her climax.

She was positively glowing, a sheen of sweat from the absolute workout she’d been put through in the bedroom. The brunette Britt was hogtied, wearing nothing but a skimpy negligee, with her face buried between her girlfriend’s thighs, and a vibrating wand pressed deep into her own.

“That’s a naughty little girl...”

Emily smiled down at Tracer, and pulled the wand away. She gave Tracer a playful spank on her ass, then smiled faux-wickedly.

“Finishing before your mistress? Naughty, naughty!”

Each “naughty” earned Tracer another slap on the ass. She moaned lewdly, and redoubled her efforts, her tongue expertly driving Emily to climax, until the redhead was moaning and biting her lip and holding Tracer’s head in place as her orgasm splashed over the girl’s freckled face.

Finally Tracer was released, and came up for air with a gasp.

“How was that, Love? Worth the wait?”

Emily smiled, and kissed her still-wet lips.

“Definitely.”

She started deftly untying her girlfriend.

“Good for you, too, I assume?”

Tracer giggled.

“You know it was. ...But next time, I want to be the Mistress, alright Love?”

Emily kissed her again, snuggling against her.

“Of course. It’ll be your birthday, so whatever you want.”

Tracer faked a pout.

“Awwww, way to give away the present.”

“That’s not your present. That’s just me being nice on account of your birthday. Your present is a surprise.”

Tracer’s face lit up.

“I can’t wait.”

~~\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------~~

Her birthday was only that weekend, but Tracer was so busy with missions over the next few days, she nearly forgot.

Silly, she thought, to forget her own birthday, but there it was. She didn’t think anything about it when she woke up. She didn’t realize what day it was as she went about her day in London. She completely forgot she had Emily’s present to look forward to. 

So when a pair of windowless panel-vans blocked either side of an alleyway she was cutting through, she didn’t make the connection right away. For a split-second, she panicked, assumed she was being kidnapped, grabbed for her cell-phone to call for help, got ready to blink away with her translocator.

Then the van in front of her opened, and a ski-masked woman who jumped out with a roll of duct-tape, and with bright-red hair visibly sticking out of the bottom of her mask. 

Tracer breathed a sigh of relief. She giggled to herself. Then she realized what day it was, and crossed her arms in exaggerated indignation.

“Emmy! I thought we agreed I got to be the dominant one for once! It’s my birthday and everything!”

“Emmy” paused, tilting her head as if confused, then kept walking, not saying anything.

“I mean, if this is the surprise present, I’ll admit, it’s impressive. Full-blown abduction fantasy, two vans, can’t have been easy to pull off. I assume you got some friends to help? Oh, don’t tell me you hired actors! I know you’re loaded, but I don’t like you spending this kind of money on me for-”

Tracer bonked herself on the head with her palm.

“Oh, silly me, I’m spoiling the whole thing after all your effort! You’re letting me domme after though, you hear me?”

She adopted an exaggerated, stereotypical posture of Damsel-In-Distress terror.

“Oh no! Please, whoever you are, don’t hurt me! I’ll do whatever you want, just please let me go!”

Rough hands grabbed her from behind. A sweet-smelling rag was pressed over her face. Her eyes went wide. The woman in front of her had green eyes. Emily’s were brown. She tried to tap her translocator to recall out of danger, but the redheaded woman caught her wrists and held her until the sweet intoxication of the rag took her into the heavy darkness.

~~\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------~~

Amélie Lacroix was not a happy woman. This was true on any day. But on this particular day the dour-tempered, blue skinned assassin better known as Widowmaker, had been dragged along by her coworker and would-be friend, Sombra, to some ridiculous underground fetish convention.

“You know, Sombra, when you said it was underground, I assumed you meant illegal. Not literally in a repurposed abandoned cistern in the London sewer catacombs.”  
The hacker shrugged with a grin.

“Hey, it’s totally illegal too. Half the stuff here can’t be bought anywhere else. Well, not safely anyway.”

Widowmaker rolled her eyes, and tried to find something to look at while the pint-sized cyber-criminal at her side rambled.

“They’ve got it all! Toys, stimulants, numbing agents, fetish gear, sex slaves, virtual reality brothel uplink hardware...”

Widowmaker blinked, and turned away from the frankly concerningly proportioned motorized dildo she’d been staring at.

“What was that last thing?”

Sombra was all smiles.

“Virtual reality brothel uplink hardware! It’s the latest in VR sex-tech, it’s not even supposed to be on the streets yet, but-”

“No. Not that, before that.”

Sombra looked confused.

“Fetish gear? I mean, if anyone could pull that stuff off, it’s you, but I never took you for the type Lacroix.”

Widowmaker pinched her temples in frustration.

“No. After that. Did you say they have sex slaves here?”

Sombra looked confused again. Then her face lit up.

“Oh! Oohhhhh, so that’s your game, eh Amiga? Wouldn’t have pegged you for that either, but I can see it.”

She winked and nudged Widowmaker with her elbow.

Widowmaker seriously considered the pros-and-cons of murdering her for about two seconds. Then she sighed.

“Just… show me where they sell them.”

~~\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------~~

If you didn’t know that the underground fetish convention was in an abandoned sewer cistern, you’d never have guessed. For one thing, the chamber was enormous, even by London Sewer standards. For another, the people running the show had done an impressive job renovating. Everything was painted white, clean tiles on the floor, bright fluorescent lighting. Walking from stall to stall, it was easy enough to forget where you were. And if someone were to drug you, bring you down there against your will, and let you wake up chained to a metal pole on a raised platform, with your arms shackled above your head, and your ankles shackled to the ground, with a massive ballgag in your mouth and not a scrap of clothing on your body, you might well never guess where you were. Tracer certainly couldn’t.

She gave up begging for help after the first ten minutes. None of the people walking past her seemed to care that she was chained naked against her will. They didn’t seem to care about the several dozen other attractive women, more than a few of which were crying or trying to scream through their gags for help, either. The only time anyone took any interest in Tracer was sizing her up like a piece of meat, then glancing at a display on the base of her platform. Tracer realized quickly from the comments that it was details about her. Her name and age they doubtless got from her license. Her hair color, eye color, height, ethnicity, those were fairly obvious. Her… measurements however… She could guess how they got those. But she didn’t want to think about it. In much the same way, she had a sinking sensation that she knew what she was doing here, but she didn’t want to let herself think that. There had to be another explanation, there had to be-

“Sold. Pleasure doing business with you sir!”

Tracer looked to her left with a start. A curvy girl with curly blonde hair was being unchained from her platform and loaded into a crate while, seemingly oblivious to her struggles not to go in the crate, a fat man in a suit exchanged a large amount of cash with the salesman.

Tracer flinched.

This was bad. This was really bad. There had to be a way out of this. Some way to escape and to-

“ _Non! C’est impossible_...”

Tracer knew that voice. Her blood ran cold to match the speaker’s own.

Widowmaker was smiling up at her, with a look of pure, predatory glee.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you like this, _Chérie_...”

Tracer shook her head in disbelief. As if her position couldn’t have gotten any worse, she had to be here.

Sombra looked at Widowmaker.

“I take it you know her? Oh, she’s the little _puta_ who keeps getting in your way on missions, yeah?”

The look on Widowmaker’s face spoke for her.

Sombra grinned, looking from Widowmaker’s hungry face, to Tracer’s frightened one.

“Tell you what. Let me buy her for you. To make up for dragging you down here.”

Widowmaker gave her a look.

“I’d rather not be in your debt, Sombra.”

Sombra made a “pshaw” gesture.

“Think nothing of it! Look, if you really care, you can buy lunch. That’s fair, right?”

Tracer squealed in her gag.

Bad enough she was being sold, naked, to a sadistic terrorist, but to discuss buying her like she was some kind of souvenir, like a tacky t-shirt? It was too humiliating!

Widowmaker considered for a moment.

“Alright, it’s a deal. And then you can show me where to buy some of that fetish gear…”

Tracer gulped. She didn’t like the sound of that.

Widowmaker reached up, and stroked Tracer’s thigh as Sombra paid for her.

“What’s this, _Chérie_? ...Are you?”

Widowmaker’s fingers were damp.

“You little slut! Sombra, we’re going to need some of those stimulants as well!”

Tracer blushed deep red. It wasn’t her fault! She was supposed to be having kinky fun with her girlfriend today! She couldn’t help if her body responded to being tied up and fondled like this!

Widowmaker licked her lips.

“I am going to enjoy training you, _Chérie_.”

Tracer gulped again. She didn’t like the sound of that at all. 

She glanced around in a panic, looking for anyone who could help. Nothing but rich perverts and salesmen, and the sadistic blue bitch who wanted to train her, and the damned salesman who was counting out Sombra’s money, and the redhead storming towards them-!

“Oi! That’s my girlfriend you’re selling there!”

The salesman looked up, then adopted a servile posture and tone.

“Ms. E! How can I help you? What a pleasant surprise! You don’t usually come to this part of the market!”

Emily glared.

“I don’t usually have any business in this part of the market. But today I was looking for a girl to be a present for my girlfriend’s birthday. And what do I find instead, but you in the process of SELLING HER!”

Tracer was very confused, but she didn’t care. Emily was here, and it seemed like she was in control of the situation. She was saved!

Even Widowmaker and Sombra seemed hesitant to speak up, sensing that “Ms. E” was someone with sway here. Neither of them was in the mood for any more trouble than was necessary. It was their day off.

The salesman looked apologetic.

“I’m terribly sorry, Ms. E. I’m afraid I’m not involved in acquisitions, I merely sell the merchandise-”

“My girlfriend.”

“Yes. Your girlfriend. Of course. There’s just, the small problem that, well, as you know, all sales at this market are final, and money has already changed hands, I well. You’ll have to take it up with her.”

He pointed at Sombra, then scurried off to try and find a less furious person, hopefully one he could sell a slavegirl too.

Emily glared at Sombra.

“Hey, don’t look at me, _chica_ , I’m just buying the girl for my friend. Take it up with her.”

Emily turned to look at Widowmaker.

“I know you. You’re that assassin. Widowmaker.”

Widowmaker cocked an eyebrow dismissively.

“And you are?”

“A particularly wealthy woman who’s girlfriend you just purchased.”

Widowmaker shrugged.

“I fail to see how that’s my problem.”

“Let me buy her back from you.”

Widowmaker seemed to consider.

Tracer looked hopeful.

“No. I’ve wanted to get my talons on her for a long time now.”

Tracer glanced at Emily nervously. 

Emily thought for a moment.

“What about a deal? A mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Now Tracer looked confused again. What did Emily mean?

Widowmaker stared imperiously.

“...I’m listening.”

“Let me rent her from you. We’ll share her, and you’ll make a tidy profit.”

Tracer stared in shock. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She tried to yell at Emily to ask what was wrong with her, but the gag muffled everything.

Widowmaker considered.

“You rent her for 1,000 dollars a day”

Emily gave her a dismissive look.

“That’s outrageous. 350.”

“1,000.”

“450”

“...950.”

“500”

Tracer was to shocked even to yell into her gag. Her girlfriend was haggling over how much to rent her for! She was blushing all the way down to her breasts from how degraded she felt.

“775, or I’ll walk away with her right now.”

“Done.”

The ladies shook on it.

“You can rent her weekends.”

“Fridays and weekends. And holidays.”

“Only major holidays.”

“Including her birthday.”

Widowmaker sniffed.

“Which I take it is today. Fine. But I’m keeping her for two hours first.”

Emily took out her wallet and handed over the day's rent. 

“Deal.”

Tracer groaned.

~~\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------~~

Two hours later Emily met with Widowmaker. She had Tracer on a leash, dressed in a latex bitch-suit, complete with puppy ears and a tail but-plug. From the look on Tracer’s face, she’d been given some sort of stimulant. She was rubbing herself against Widowmaker’s leg and whining into her gag.

Emily gave Widowmaker a look.

“Well I see you didn’t waste any time fucking with her. Give me her leash.”

Widowmaker’s face was icy, but she handed over the leash.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to pick her up. At dawn.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Muttered Emily, as she turned away.

She took Tracer back to her flat in the city, and took off her gag.

Tracer gasped, then whined.

“Emily, I can’t believe you left me with her! The things she did to me… Look, you’ve got to get me out of this stuff, you’re not actually going to give me back to- _eeep!_ ”

Tracer was silenced by a flogger coming down on her ass, and a finger going over her lip.

“I’m afraid I am. I’m not going to spend my life running from an international assassin just because you were dumb enough to get kidnapped by a bunch of slavers.”

“...But Emmy, you- _aaackkk!_ ”

A long, thick, dildo gag silenced Tracer as she struggled not to choke on it.

“Be glad I’m getting to spend any time with you. It’s costing me a lot to do it, so we’re playing by my rules now. So from now on I’m afraid you’re exclusively on sub duty.”

Tracer whined.

“mmmm?”

“Now, since it’s your birthday, I’ll be nice. You get this for the rest of the day.”

A vibrating egg was slipped into Tracer’s pussy, set on high, and taped in place.

“MMMMMMM!!”

Immediately tracer started to writhe.

“And since I’m paying so much to spend time with you… we’re doing something I’ve always wanted to try.”

Emily revealed a massive motorized strap-on.

Tracer’s eyes bugged.

“Now, since your pussy is busy, I assume you know where this is going. Your ass was always your best feature...”

Tracer moaned. This was going to be a long night. 

The first of many...


End file.
